


La Veille

by Mina Lightstar (ukefied)



Series: Comment Fic Fills [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukefied/pseuds/Mina%20Lightstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My last Google search was for "bulk asian wives."  I don't know, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Veille

**Author's Note:**

> For the Comment-Fic community. Also posted [here](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/356124.html?thread=62478876#t62613276).
> 
> Considerably darker than the prompt implies.

Sam comes back to himself gradually, slowly crawling back to consciousness. When he manages to open his heavy eyelids, the first thing he does is roll over and throw up. Thankfully, there’s a garbage pail already there. He blesses Dean’s foresight.

Dean.

Sam pushes himself up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He scans the room. It’s a disaster; the lamp is broken, their clothes are all over the place, and there are holes in the wall. Sam swallows.

“Dean!”

His brother picks that moment to enter, balancing two coffees on a box of donuts. The shades in their room are almost fully drawn, but even in the faint light Sam can make out the bruising etched along Dean’s face and neck.

“What happened to you?” Sam gasps, standing on wobbly feet.

“It’s nothin’,” Dean replies a little too quickly. “How’re you doing?”

Sam thinks about it, watching Dean set breakfast down. “I’m fine,” he decides. “What — what happened last night?”

Dean considers him for a moment. “You don’t remember any of it?”

Sam touches his temple. “Should I?”

His brother touches his neck unconsciously. “No. Forget it.”

“Forget what?” Sam demands, stumbling over to assess the damage. “Dean, did I—?”

“Don’t _worry_ about it,” Dean overrides him, waving his arms like it’s no big deal. “Nothing happened.”

Sam almost tells him to _fuck off, nothing happened_ but when Dean gets like this, there is no budging him. He drops in a sullen heap into his chair and opens his laptop. He’ll grill Dean slowly, until he’s back to one hundred percent — then the interrogation begins.

“I must’ve gotten pretty hammered last night, huh?” he figures, gesturing to the wreckage.

Dean’s still standing where Sam left him; he hasn’t touched his coffee. “Must’ve,” he agrees quietly.

Except that’s bullshit. God, Dean isn’t even trying. Sam blinks at his monitor. “My last Google search was ‘bulk Asian wives.’” He quirks an eyebrow at Dean.

“I don’t know, either,” his brother says, raising his hands in defense.

Sam purses his lips, original plan forgotten. “Dean, what the hell was I _on_ last night?”

His brother looks at him with weary eyes and says, “Nothin’.”

And Sam thinks he’s telling the truth.


End file.
